Wanda Maximoff Ficlets
by ninjadevil2000
Summary: A series of small ficlets focused on Wanda and her relationship with others. Set a couple of months after AoU but a few months before CACW. Already posted: Tony / Vision / Clint / Steve
1. Tony Stark

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Marvel. No rights, characters, places, etc.**

**Author's Note: So, I watched Captain America: Civil War again recently and noticed that Wanda had a guitar in her room. That became the inspiration for these little drabbles, even though it's not involved in all of them. **

**They're set roughly two to three months after Ultron and six months before Civil War. Wanda's age was never confirmed in the movies, but because of the things said, such as Clint saying she could mope and go to high school and Steve calling her a kid, I'm writing Wanda as being 18/19 during Civil War. **

**This makes sense as Infinity War is set two years after Civil War, making Wanda 21 ish, and she's involved with Vision. **

**Please enjoy and review. :) And if they're anyone else you would like to see Wanda share a moment with, let me know. I'm happy to take ideas, prompts, etc.**

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Wanda sat on her bed, legs crossed, a guitar tutorial video playing on her laptop. When the video ended, Wanda closed her laptop and pulled her most recently written song lyrics towards her. She started playing random chords and notes, wondering which ones would work with the lyrics she had written.

Outside her room, Tony strode down the hall towards the lab, pausing when he heard the guitar being strummed. He smiled, glad that Wanda was able to to relax and be a kid once in a while despite her pressing role as an Avenger-in-training. He made to continue to the lab but paused again and took a few steps towards the door when he heard Wanda's voice start up:

_"__I hear your voice float to my ears; I hope I hear it through all my years. Your soft blue eyes stare into mine, while my deep brown ones softly shine."_

The next day, when Tony walked into the compound after returning from a meeting, he found Natasha in the kitchen making homemade macaroni and cheese; Tony still found it hard to believe that Natasha, an internationally trained spy and assassin, knew how to make something like macaroni and cheese from scratch.

"Smells good," Tony said, walking over to Natasha and sniffing the contents of the large pot she was stirring.

"It's not for you," Natasha said, slapping his hand away, for he had been about to taste the dish. "It's for Wanda."

"It's okay," Wanda called from the living room. "He can have some."

Tony turned a looked at Wanda who sat on the couch in the connected living room. He'd noticed how her voice a bit of a catch in it. As though she were fighting back emotion.

"Nat," Tony began softly, so Wanda wouldn't hear. "Is Wanda alright?"

Natasha sighed and looked at Tony. "It's her birthday."

"Oh, well," he began. "Why is she so –" Tony broke off, suddenly realizing what her birthday would now mean to her. Pietro. Her twin. Someone she had shared everything with. Even her birthday.

Tony sighed and briefly placed a hand on Natasha's shoulder, then left the kitchen, walking to where Wanda sat.

"Wanda?" he began kindly, sitting down on the couch next to her. Wanda sat with her back towards him, bent over something. "I'm sorry."

Wanda turned to him, and Tony noticed that her eyes were red.

"It's okay," she muttered, sniffling.

"No, it's not," Tony muttered back. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he put an arm around her shoulders. "I – I created Ultron. I'm the reason Pietro's gone."

"No, you're not," Wanda insisted. "Listen," she continued, her voice quiet. "I don't blame you. I know now that you created Ultron to try and make the world a safer place. I know you didn't mean for anything like this to happen at all."

"Well," Tony began. "It still did."

"Maybe," Wanda replied. "But you have to stop beating yourself up about it. It's in the past, and there's nothing we can do about that."

"You know," Tony said, cracking a smile. "For being a kid, you're pretty smart. Listen, if you need to talk to me or Steve or anyone, remember we're always here for you."

"I know. And thanks," Wanda said, grabbing her notes from beside her and uncapping a pen. As Tony stood up, he caught the title above some lyrics she was writing down. It was simply titled, _Brother, I Miss You._


	2. Vision

One evening, after an exhausting mission, Wanda and the rest of the Avengers had retired to their rooms or the living room. Wanda sat on one end of the couch, writing idly, feet propped up in Vision's lap as he read _The_ _Shining_.

"I do not understand it," Vision said, snapping the book shut, apparently finished with it. "That was not at all frightening, yet everybody here has said they've read it and were frightened immensely, including Captain Rogers who I did not think could be frightened."

Wanda giggled as she looked up from her notebook. "Well, it's frightening to us humans, Vihz. Something about the way it's written just makes people . . . uneasy, I guess. I actually had nightmares for a week when I read it last month."

"Hmm." Placing the book down on the coffee table, Vision looked over at her.

"What are you writing?" he asked curiously after a few minutes of silence.

"Just a song," Wanda replied.

"What's it about?" Vision asked.

"Nothing," Wanda said, her voice snapping a bit. There was a moment's silence. "I – I'm sorry. It's just – I don't much like talking about it. It's sorta . . . personal." She shrugged.

"I understand," Vision said comfortingly, grabbing her hand. "You don't need to tell me; I'm okay with not knowing."

Wanda smiled at him. Later than night, when Wanda fell asleep on the couch, her notebook and pen lying on her chest, Vision gently picker her up and carried her to her room. He laid her on the bed, pulled the blanket over her, and left, placing her notebook and pen beside her on the nightstand.

"Sleep well, Wanda," Vision said softly, before leaving and shutting the door softly behind him.


	3. Clint Barton

"Morning, Clint," Wanda said, wandering into the kitchen one morning.

"Morning, Wanda," Clint replied, who stood at the stove, flipping pancakes.

"Here you go," Clint threw a few onto a plate and slid it towards her as she sat down at the counter.

"Thanks," Wanda said gratefully. "Is there still syrup?"

"Yeah, think so," Clint replied, "Hold on a sec and I'll grab it for you,"

"No need," Wanda said, with a small smile. She reached her hand out, letting red magic flow around her fingers. It flowed out of her fingertips and wafted through the air, Wanda propelling it with her hand. It reached the cabinet and opened the door and, as though it were a hand, curled around the bottle of syrup, reeling it back in until Wanda could grab it with her free hand.

"You're getting better at that," Clint said proudly.

"Thanks," Wanda replied, drizzling syrup onto her pancakes and grabbing a fork.

"What are you going to do today?" she asked, taking a bite.

"Not sure," Clint replied. "I'm going home tomorrow though, so I'll probably pack up a few things."

"Oh," Wanda replied, a little saddened. Clint was the person she was closest to at the compound.

"I promised Laura and the kids that we'd go do something family-ish this weekend."

"Oh, that's nice," Wanda replied, forcing a smile. She hated herself for it, but she was a bit jealous of Clint and his family. She had no family, apart from the Avengers, and desperately wished that Pietro was still with her. She had been angry at Clint for a long time, for it had been him that Pietro was saving when he died, but she realized that that was a stupid grudge to hold, so she had let go of it over time, becoming closer to Clint in the process. And, though she wouldn't admit it, she felt Clint was a sort of father-figure to her. That was something she hadn't experienced in a long time, ever since she was ten years old.

"Why don't you come with me?" Clint asked, pulling Wanda out of her thoughts.

"What?" Wanda replied surprisedly.

"Well, you came out last month to meet Laura and the kids and they all loved you."

"Oh, no," Wanda said, shaking her head, "I don't want to intrude on your family time."

"Listen, Laura loves you. When we were leaving, she actually pulled me aside to tell me to make sure you were well taken care of."

Wanda laughed as Clint continued. "The kids love you, and anyway, Nathaniel's starting to walk so you might get to see that."

Wanda smiled. "You're sure that you and Laura won't mind?" she asked hesitantly.

"Absolutely," Clint replied, smiling. "Will you come?"

Wanda hesitated one last time, then she nodded. "Okay."

"Wonderful," Clint said, grinning broadly. "I'll call Laura and tell her."

The next morning, having packed a quick overnight bag the day before, Wanda woke up early. She was about to leave her room and go outside to meet Clint, but, as a last minute thought, grabbed her music notebook, pens, and guitar, hurriedly stuffing them into her guitar case.

"I'm ready!" she yelled to Clint, running outside after saying a hurried goodbye to the others.

"Great!" Clint replied, smiling and taking the guitar case from her and loading it onto the jet.

"Ready?" he asked her as they walked onto the jet. "It'll be about be about a two hour flight, so you can get some extra sleep if you like."

"No, I'm okay," Wanda replied. "I think I'll just write if you don't mind."

"Sure."

They took off a few minutes later, Clint at the helm and Wanda in the cockpit beside him, notebook on her lap and pen between her teeth.

"Wanda?" Clint asked, after about an hour in the air. "What do you write about?" At that moment, Wanda was hurriedly scribbling down a few recently fabricated lyrics, and held up a finger, signaling that she would talk in a moment. She finished writing and looked up.

"Sorry, Clint," she apologized. "What was your question again?"

"Oh, I was just wondering what you write about. I see you writing a lot and, well, you did bring your guitar."

Wanda sighed. She had never really disclosed the contents of her songs, as they were very personal to her, but, if she couldn't share them with Clint, who could she share them with?

"They're about . . . love," Wanda began slowly, looking out into the clear blue sky, "loss, grief – " she paused. "Death."

Clint remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"A lot of my earlier songs were based on how I felt about Pietro's death, but now I kind of write about a lot of things." She shrugged.

"Well, I have to admit, I've overheard you once or twice," Clint admitted.

Wanda paled.

"And you sound really good. I think Laura would love to hear one or two of your songs also."

Wanda smiled nervously. "I really sound good?" she said.

"Definitely," Clint replied, giving her a fatherly sort of smile.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, giving Wanda the time to finish a song she'd been working on for a few weeks.


	4. Steve Rogers

"Pietro!" Wanda gasped. A nightmare. Again. God, how she hated them.

"Wanda?" There was a knock at her door, and she looked up, wiping her damp eyes with her pajama top.

"Come in," Wanda murmured. Steve walked in, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair was slightly messier than usual, and Wanda realized that she must've woken him up.

"Wanda," he said gently. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry I woke you up," she muttered, as he sat on the bed next to her.

"Don't worry about it," Steve admonished gently. "We all have them. Me, Tony, Clint, Nat, even Thor. We all get them. It's part of the job."

Wanda paused for a moment before saying one word. "Pietro."

Steve nodded. "Do you want to talk about them?"

Wanda didn't look at him. She pulled her knees to her chest and fidgeted with her hands. "They're different but they're always about him. Sometimes it's when we're back in our old house and it feels like I'm back there, the missile right next to my face. Other times it's when I see . . . him. Just laying there. Sometimes they start happy and it's me and him having fun but then they end with me seeing him die or seeing him fall."

Wanda swallowed as Steve put a hand on shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Wanda. I know how hard it was to lose Bucky. I can't imagine how hard it was to lose a brother."

Wanda didn't reply. She sniffed and wiped away a few tears that had fallen from her eyes. "Well," she said, looking up. She plastered a smile on her face. "He's okay now, isn't he?"

Steve smiled sadly. "I'm sure he is." He sensed that Wanda wanted to be alone and so, giving her shoulder a squeeze, he stood up. "G'night, Wanda. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Steve," Wanda said softly. She watched as the man left, shutting the door softly behind him, before curling up in bed, squeezing the pillow tightly, and crying herself back to sleep.


End file.
